


Rabbit-light

by Memorycharm (tzy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-03
Updated: 2004-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzy/pseuds/Memorycharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville's got a charm to help him get through Potions, and it helps him make some other moves, too. Harry's a bit clueless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rabbit-light

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004 for the Woobies of Destiny ficathon for the challenge: "Neville is more sexually sophisticated and experienced than Harry."

_And to feel the light is a rabbit-light,  
In which everything is meant for you  
And nothing need be explained;_  
\--Wallace Stevens, "A Rabbit as King of the Ghosts."

  
*

 

Harry drew a breath and walked into the Advanced Potions classroom. He'd wanted to delay it as much as possible, but the idea of walking in late and having Snape cut into him right away made him ill.

"Don't tell me _Potter_ got his Potions OWL." Malfoy's sneering stage whisper made Harry grit his teeth. Of course Malfoy _had_ to be in Advanced Potions. 

Harry ignored him. He needed a Potions NEWT if he wanted to be an Auror; therefore, he needed to bear Malfoy's taunts and Snape's malice. Thankfully, Hermione and Ron were both in Snape's Advanced Potions class, too. He needn't bear it alone.

"At least he didn't--" Ron muttered. He gestured for Harry to join him and Hermione, at their table. Unlike the Potions classroom Harry was familiar with, this room was filled with high tables, each with a set of jars and beakers and strange distilling devices. It rather resembled a mad-scientist's laboratory from an old black and white Muggle film. 

"What? _Some_ body greased their way in, and it wasn't a Slytherin," Malfoy spat, glaring at them. "Professor Snape never accepts more than three students from each house into his NEWT Potions class. This year, he's been forced to take on a fourth Gryffindor. My money's on Potty." Pansy and Millicent snickered. "We know it couldn't have been you, Weasel, you haven't got the funds--"

"Really, Malfoy, haven't you got any new things to dislike about us?" Hermione broke in, rolling her eyes. 

"Who's the fourth?" Ron whispered, after checking to see if Malfoy was paying attention. "Hermione? It's got to be a girl. Seamus and Dean burnt their Potions texts, and well, it couldn't possibly be Neville...."

Harry wondered, too. He was worried that it was him, that Dumbledore had pressured Snape into letting him in, and it would all turn out as disastrously as Occlumency had. He knew Dumbledore must have stepped in somehow, since Snape said he only accepted students with an 'Outstanding' Potions OWL, and he'd got an 'Exceeds Expections' (and that was surprising enough). Yet, when he'd got his list of texts for Sixth year, there it had been: _Dreadfully Difficult and Dangerous Draughts: A Perplexing Primer_ by Orlando Osmosis. Snape would be worse than ever if he'd been forced to take Harry on again.

"No, Lavender and Parvati couldn't stop going on about being rid of Snape forever... Oh!" Hermione gasped and looked at the doorway. 

There, clutching his text and cauldron tightly at his side, stood Neville. 

"Oh, no," Malfoy said loudly. "Everyone brush up on shielding charms."

Neville glanced at Malfoy briefly before raising his chin and walking over to the Gryffindors.

"Neville?" Hermione said in a short squeak.

"H- hullo," Neville said flatly. Harry was about to question him when the door opened again, and more students filed in: three Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs, followed shortly by Professor Snape himself.

"You will each take a table to yourself," Snape said with no preamble. "It will be your work area for the remainder of the year. You are responsible for its cleanliness and care; no house-elves are allowed into the Advanced Potions classroom." He paused and surveyed the room, glaring down his beak-like nose. 

"There will be no partnered work in this room," he continued, lowering his voice to an almost-whisper. "No opportunities to ride on the coattails of others." His black eyes darted to each student, finally resting on the Gryffindors. 

"Ah. Mister Longbottom," he said, venom oozing from every syllable. "I had to cut a perfectly adequate Hufflepuff to allow space for... you. Professor Sprout was most unhappy."

Harry clenched his fists under his table. Professor Sprout was Neville's favorite teacher; Snape wouldn't hesitate in trying to turn her against Neville. 

"You do understand, Longbottom, that the first exploding cauldron, the first disastrous potion, you will be immediately withdrawn from this class?"

"Yes, sir," Neville said in a monotone. Harry glanced at him. He wasn't nervously twitching, and his face wasn't flushed. Neville just looked at Professor Snape with a blank expression. 

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Well, you won't have Granger to whisper the correct ingredients into your ear. We shall see how long you last." He whipped his gaze to Harry. "And you, Potter. Professor McGonagall is in my debt twice over. I have never allowed students with such dismal OWLs into my class as yours and Longbottom's." 

Harry blinked and fought the urge to reply. Snape would pounce the first chance he got; Harry didn't intend to give him a chance. 

"Now, Longbottom," Snape continued, tapping his long fingers to his mouth, "why don't you enlighten us as to the reason for adding mallowsweet _last_ when brewing the Diviner's Drink?" 

"Er," Neville started. Harry's stomach dropped. Snape was going to eat Neville alive. "Because the fumes can cause dizziness and hallucination, if you breathe them for too long. Um, sir."

Snape was silent. Hermione's eyes were like trenchers. 

"He got it right, didn't he?" Ron said.

"Silence!" Snape's eyes fixed on Ron. "Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting." He turned to Neville. "And five more points from Gryffindor for answering too slowly and delaying my lecture." He drew his back up stiff and straight. "Now. This term, you will brew the Draught of Dreams. It is a complex and temperamental concoction, but one that serves as the base for many other valuable potions...."

Snape didn't call on Neville again.

*

After the lesson, Hermione cornered Neville in the corridor. "What have you done?" she said sharply. Harry thought she sounded a little rude. Maybe Neville had just grown up a bit over the summer holiday. They were sixteen now, not really children anymore. 

Harry had thought of Neville on his birthday, now that he knew it was probably his birthday, too, or close to. He wondered if Neville's Gran was the sort to go in for cakes and candles.

Neville sighed. "All right. It- it's something Professor McGonagall gave me," he said. He pulled up his right robe sleeve and revealed a thin silver bracelet with some odd markings all round.

"Is that..." Hermione grabbed Neville's wrist and examined the markings.

"It's an Impavidus device," Neville said.

"Those can be really dangerous, Neville," Hermione said. "You have to be very careful. Without a healthy fear response, you could end up doing something foolish--"

"I know, Professor McGonagall told me everything," Neville said in the same flat tone he'd used whenever Snape has asked him a question.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "What does it do?" Harry asked, peering down at Neville's wrist.

"It, uh, it helps..." Neville's face scrunched up as he chose his words. "It makes it so I forget about why Professor Snape makes me so afrai-- uncomfortable. Or, no, it's more like it doesn't matter, so I don't worry about it. I can remember things better if I'm not worried." He raised his eyebrows, looking surprised. "There's a lot of Herbology involved. I don't know why I didn't see that before."

"Whatever it does, that was brilliant," Ron said, slapping Neville on his back. "Snape didn't know what hit him."

"Right," Neville said, snapping the silver band off of his wrist. His face softened and relaxed for a minute, then settled into its usual slightly worried state. "It was sort of nice, with Snape, wasn't it...."

Harry nodded along with Ron. "It was great," he said.

"We should make plans to study together in the library," Hermione said, pulling out her homework planner. "What? He didn't say anything about not working together _outside_ the classroom." She clapped her hands together excitedly. "We can combine research! The Alucine-class potions are supposed to be fascinating...." 

Ron rolled his eyes, but Harry and Neville agreed at once. 

"Why do you want to take Potions anyway?" Ron said. "I'd drop it if I could."

Neville flushed red. "I- with the way things are, and what happened last year... I want to do something. I can be an Herbologist anytime. I can fight, I know I can. I'm much better with spells now that I have a new wand. I just need to get through Potions. Every career I looked at requires a Potions NEWT." 

*

The scream broke through the Gryffindor dormitory and wrenched Harry from sleep. He reached for his wand and pulled his heavy bed drapes open. Ron poked his head out at the same time, blinking sleep crust from his eyes. "Neville?" he said, looking to Harry.

"I think..." Harry said. They both crept over to Neville's bed. 

"Whassat?" Seamus said, sticking his head out. 

"Neville?" Harry said, peering into Neville's bed. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Neville said from the darkness. "Just a bad dream." He sat up and cast Lumos. "Did I make a noise?"

"Noise?" Seamus said, snorting. "You screamed like a girl, mate."

Neville smiled, then quickly frowned. Two spots of red dotted his round cheeks.

Harry perched on the edge of Neville's bed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Neville said. "You don't have to make a fuss and act like I'm made of glass." 

"Where's Dean?" Ron said suddenly, looking over at Dean's silent bed. His face looked pale and pinched. "I'm going to kill him. First him, then Ginny," he muttered, stomping over and pulling Dean's drapes. The bed was empty. 

Harry looked at Neville and grinned. Neville smiled back, and Harry's grin got wider. Soon, they started to laugh, going from small chuckles to loud, sidesplitting guffaws in seconds.

"What?" Ron said.

*

The next Potions class, Neville attacked his work with a ferocious single-mindedness. He took down every word that Snape uttered, writing quickly and smearing ink on his hand. He didn't raise his hand, but when Snape questioned him specifically--on the differences between the three main varieties of truth potions--he was able to answer correctly.

Harry wanted to be happy for Neville, but he couldn't help feeling a spark of jealousy; he wanted to be able to act like Snape didn't bother him anymore. 

But he couldn't. Each word out of Snape's mouth was like salt in a seeping wound. Harry heard Sirius's death in every syllable. Trying to hold his tongue and keep his temper in check was excruciating, and he had two more years of it to endure. Sometimes, his body would start to shake without warning; he felt empty when that happened. 

*

"Harry? Harry, are you awake?"

"Mm, what? Who's there?" Harry half-sat and rubbed his eyes. His bed drape was open, and moonlight streamed through the dormitory windows.

"It's me, Neville," Neville said, sitting down at the foot of Harry's bed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I-- I just... It _is_ nicer with Snape, now, right?" Neville rubbed his pajama-clad arm. 

"Yeah, s'brilliant," Harry said, licking the corners of his mouth. Neville's hair stuck out in all directions. Harry thought about trying to flatten it with his hands, and a warm feeling pooled in his stomach. "Why?"

"I don't know.... It's-- why do I need this thing?" Neville pulled up his pajama sleeve and revealed the thin silver charm. "Why can't I do it on my own, like you?"

Harry laughed. "I've been wondering if McGonagall would give me one."

Neville scoffed. "You don’t need one; I do. Without it, I'd have fallen apart on the first day." He slid down, closer to Harry. "And without it, I'd never have the nerve to--"

Harry watched Neville bend down, like he was going in for a kiss, which was silly, because Harry had only ever kissed Cho before, and the idea of his second kiss coming from Neville Longbottom was-- and then Neville kissed Harry, right on the lips.

It was soft, and a little clumsy, but nice. Harry was so startled that his mouth gaped open like a fish. Neville ran his tongue along Harry's bottom lip and pulled away. 

"Neville--" Harry said, not really understanding what had just happened. Did Neville _fancy_ him? Was Neville a poof? Did _he_ fancy _Neville_? If Harry fancied Neville, did that mean Harry was a poof? A very disconcerting image of Dudley wearing a knowing grin came to mind.

"Sorry," Neville said. "I don't-- just forget it, all right?"

"No," Harry said suddenly.

"What?" Neville's voice was barely a whisper. Harry sat up and grabbed Neville's arm.

"I won't forget it," he said. "I mean, I don't think I want to."

"What?" Neville repeated. Harry didn't really know what to say next, so he leaned in and kissed Neville. Or, he tried--he missed Neville's mouth and bumped their noses together.

"Ow," Neville said, but Harry could tell even in the moonlight that he was smiling. 

"Here," Harry said, cupping Neville's cheek and adjusting his trajectory. This time, their lips met. Harry couldn't help but compare this kiss with Cho's. Hers had been teary and nothing like he'd expected; this was firm, and there were a few prickly hairs dusting Neville's top lip. It wasn't like anything Harry had expected either, but this time the unexpectedness was exhilarating. 

Neville parted his lips and Harry mouth opened with them, allowing Neville to slide his tongue in. Harry stifled a moan. There was a direct wire from his tongue to his cock; Neville's tongue slipped against and massaged Harry's, sending liquid warmth along that wire, and to every nerve ending in between.

He did moan when he tasted Neville's mouth, chocolaty and slightly sour, but wonderful. 

The sound of the door opening startled them apart. They watched Dean tiptoe in, holding his shoes and eying Ron's bed warily. 

Harry's heart was pounding and his cock was so hard he thought if he just rubbed it against Neville's leg _once_ , he'd come in a flood. 

"Dean!" Ron yelled. Dean yelped and dropped his shoes. Harry groaned.

"I suppose I ought to go back to my bed," Neville whispered.

"Yeah," Harry said, though it was the last thing he wanted.

It was hours before Harry got to sleep.

*

"Ginny doesn't know what she's got into with Dean," Ron muttered for the umpteenth time. 

"Shh!" Hermione said, gesturing at the large open book in front of Ron. Harry kept his eyes focused on the book in front of him. Neville was sitting across the table, and Harry couldn't meet his eyes without feeling a hot flush come over his face.

"Do you know Dean was out past midnight for three nights in a row this week?" Ron said, ignoring Hermione. 

_"Adding three drops of Papaver sap alters the potion significantly, producing a thick, black, sludgelike concoction that can induce prophetic dreams in persons inclined towards the Sight."_

Harry read the sentence five times without comprehending a word. Neville's toe kept tapping against his foot under the table, whether on purpose or by accident, Harry didn't know, but it made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. 

"Dean had better not try anything funny," Ron went on. "Ginny can get a little... weird when she, er, fancies someone." He shot a look at Harry.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Hermione said, slamming her book shut and standing up. "Ginny is perfectly capable of choosing who she wants to go out with. And with six brothers, it's not as though she doesn't know anything about boys. Why don’t you just-- mind your own business." She gathered up her notes and started to walk away. "I'm going back to the common room to study," she called over her shoulder. 

"Wha--? Ginny's my sister. She is my business," Ron said, sputtering. "She doesn't get it," he told Harry and Neville. "Hermione, wait up," he said, grabbing his books and following her, leaving Harry and Neville alone.

"He's gone mad," Harry said, still not quite meeting Neville's eyes.

"Yeah," Neville said. "Come on." He stood up and gestured towards the stacks.

Neville's body was soft, with an underlying impression of solidity. He pressed into Harry's wiry body and kissed him. Harry's senses were enveloped in the earthy, green scent of Neville.

"Like this?" Neville said, breaking the kiss and moving his hand to cup Harry's erection.

"Oh, God," Harry choked out. Neville pushed Harry back against the overstuffed bookcase. "Neville--"

"It's good; you'll like it. I'll make sure," Neville mumbled into Harry's neck, his breath damp and hot. He tugged Harry's trouser zip down and reached in.

"Yes..." Harry said when Neville grasped his cock. It didn't take long; as soon as Harry looked down at his prick in Neville's hand, he came, right there in the library stacks. "Um," he said, and collapsed to his knees.

Neville knelt beside Harry and kissed his temple, then adjusted his glasses back into place.

"You-- can I?" Harry said, reaching for Neville's trouser button.

"Wait a minute," Neville said, stopping Harry's hand with his own.

"But," Harry let his hand drop, disappointed. "But I want to." He touched Neville's fingers. They were sticky with a few droplets of his come. " _Really_ want to," he whispered, pulling Neville's hand up, with the intention of licking his fingers. The idea made him feel bold and wild. "Please?"

"I--" Neville flushed red when his sleeve slid back, revealing his bracelet. 

The bracelet charm he used to suppress his fear of Snape. Harry frowned. They didn't have Potions today; Neville had no reason to wear it. He looked right into Neville's eyes for the first time that day. 

"Why--" Harry cleared his throat. "Are you wearing that because of this?" he said, gesturing vaguely around them. Neville didn't have to say anything. The slump of his shoulders gave his answer. Harry's throat burned. Was Neville... _afraid_ of him, even after the other night, in Harry's bed? 

"I should go," Harry said flatly. 

*

"I kissed Hermione," Ron told Harry when they changed for bed that night. Neville's bed was closed and silent. 

"You what?" Harry said, staring at Ron.

"Kissed her. Hermione. On the mouth. And she kissed back," Ron said. He blinked like he didn't really believe it, either. 

"Oh. That's um, good?" Harry said.

"Mm-hm." Ron had an odd, dreamy expression. He looked like a large, freckled, redheaded Luna Lovegood. Harry tried not to laugh.

"Good then," Harry said. It didn't seem quite adequate, but he didn't know what else to say. "Oh, by the way, Neville wanked me off in the library after you two left and I think I might be a poof who fancies Neville" certainly wasn't the right thing to say, but it was the only thing on Harry's mind.

*

Something was wrong. Neville's hand shook when he added his three drops of Lallyflutter nectar to his cauldron. Shook like they _used_ to. And if Harry could sense it, Snape was bound to.

"Longbottom... tell us what would happen should one add four or five drops of nectar in this stage, rather than three?" Snape said, his eyes glittering. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Please let him get it right, he thought, repeating it like a mantra.

"Er.... I-- I-- I--" Neville went red and he glanced at Hermione.

Snape crossed his arms. "Yes? You-- you-- you--? I asked you, not Miss Granger."

"Professor!" Pansy's shriek startled Harry and he almost dropped his bottle of nectar. Everyone turned to look: one of the Ravenclaw's cauldrons was spewing yellow and green bubbles.

"Everyone out," Snape barked. "Don't touch it!" The bubbling potion oozed down the table to the floor, where it darkened and spread out, moving like it was alive. 

Neville kept his head down and left without a word.

*

That night, Neville's nightmare-induced yelping woke Harry again. "I'll talk to him," Harry said before he realized Ron's bed was empty. He cast Lumos and tiptoed over to Neville's bed. Dean was gone, too, and Seamus had his drapes pulled tight.

"Neville, wake up," Harry whispered. Neville sat up quickly, his face creased and his hair wild.

"I'm all right," he said. "Just a bad dream."

"It wasn't about any giant snakes, was it?" Harry said, joking. 

"No," Neville said seriously. He slid over, making room for Harry to sit on the edge of the bed. "There's this bird, in the greenhouse. I'm at one end, and it's at the other. It's a black bird, a raven or a crow, and it's pecking at something on the table. I think it's eating seeds, so I go down to chase it out, but when I get there, it's not eating seeds at all." He shivered.

"What's it eating?" Harry asked, pulling his legs in and shutting Neville's drapes. 

"Different things... sometimes, it's an animal, like a rat or a toad, and it's still alive, only too weak to get away. Once, it was baby birds. Most of the time, I can't tell what it is." 

"Do you have that dream a lot?" Harry asked, keeping his voice down.

"Yes," Neville said. "I've never woken anyone up because of it until this term, though." He sounded embarrassed.

"Are you wearing the charm?" Harry whispered. 

"No... not now. I tried to go without it today. I'd be out for sure if Lisa Turpin's cauldron hadn't gone off." He looked at Harry. "I'm sorry for... the other day."

"Don't wear it except for Potions," Harry said, wanting to kiss Neville but not sure how to initiate it. "I'm not like Snape."

Neville laughed. "No, you're not."

They stared expectantly at each other for a few seconds, and then both leaned in for a kiss at the same time. Somehow, it worked. They didn't bump noses or foreheads or teeth. Their lips touched, and they kissed.

Harry took Neville's face in both hands and threaded his fingers back into Neville's sleep-tangled hair. This time, he opened Neville's mouth with his and darted his tongue in. 

He wanted to touch Neville, and make him melt.

"Can I?" he said, his lips moving against Neville's cheek. He licked the spot just under Neville's earlobe and felt a thrill of power at the moan it produced. "Let me?" He let his hand drop to Neville's waist. 

Neville nodded, and Harry kissed him again. This was it; he was going to have another boy's prick in his hands, and he was going to like it. Definitely a shirt-lifter. He pulled on the waistband of Neville's pajamas and put his hand inside. Neville's cock was hard, warm, and a little bigger than Harry's. 

"Move over a bit," Harry said, stretching out on the bed, getting the best angle. He started slow, going the pace he usually liked at first. 

"Little faster," Neville said hoarsely. He let his legs fall open and relaxed. He touched Harry in random patterns on his chest, until he found one of Harry's nipples and pinched it.

Harry squeaked in surprise, then gasped. Who knew touching your nipples could feel like that, like an explosion that radiated through his entire body? Wanting to make Neville feel as good, he mouthed Neville's chest through his pajamas, hoping he hit the right spot.

"Oh," Neville said as he came in warm sticky threads. "Oh. Oh." Like he'd been given the biggest box of Bertie Bott's available. The sweetness of that 'oh' broke over Harry, and he felt foolish and giddy. He crushed his mouth to Neville's, drinking in his sweetness.

After a moment, Neville pushed Harry onto his back and ground into him, rubbing against his body, rubbing down, down-- "Neville?" he said softly, not sure he really wanted an answer.

"Shh," Neville said. He pulled Harry's pajama bottoms down to Harry's ankles. Harry swallowed. This was like sex. This was being naked in front of someone because they wanted to see you naked. Neville ran his fingers over the line of dark hairs below Harry's navel. He touched Harry lightly, exploring. Foreskin, underside, testicles, behind... there, all brushed with Neville's gentle hand. 

It felt good, really good, but Harry wanted more. He wished Neville would grab him roughly like he had in the library. Neville had just said when he wanted it faster, but the words stuck in Harry's throat. 

Then Neville licked Harry, the rough flat of his tongue rubbing from balls to tip.

"Neville," Harry said, writhing. Or he tried to say Neville's name, but it came out more like, "Nevluh." All he knew after that was the sensation of coming in Neville's mouth. 

He pulled Neville up and kissed him, tasting his own bitterness, then burrowed his face in Neville's chest. It felt like his body wasn't ever going to stop shaking, but Neville was there, Neville, who was soft and solid at once.

Did this mean he and Neville were going out? Would Neville want singing valentines and tea at Madam Puddifoot's? What did wizards even think of hom- ga- boys who fancied boys? Harry ticked through the list of questions that kept growing in his head. But when he opened his mouth, what he said was: "You've done that before?" 

"Er, yes." Neville whispered. "Or, um, had it done to me, rather."

Harry wrinkled his nose. Who had Neville been with? Why did it cause a strange ache in Harry's chest?

"No one at school," Neville said. "No one you know." 

"Then...?"

Neville sighed. "For my birthday. Um. Uncle Algie... he brought me to a- a- someone who does that. For money. You know."

Harry's knowledge of prostitution was largely informed by the crime dramas Dudley liked to watch on television. He got a sudden image of Neville with a big-haired woman in an animal print miniskirt. But Neville's uncle Algie was a wizard, and they did lots of things differently. "Tell me?" he prompted.

Neville turned over on his side, away from Harry. "Not much to say. She, uh, worked out of this pub my uncle goes to. Had a room upstairs and all. Uncle Algie said my-- my dad would've done the same, if he could... but I don't know." He sighed. "I think maybe he thought I- I didn't want to do it with girls," Neville whispered, so softly Harry strained to hear. "I suppose he was right." 

*

Harry didn't know how to act the next day. So he followed Neville's lead, which consisted of not saying a bloody word about anything more interesting than what a good growing season it was for Flapping Flytraps. It was more confusing and frustrating than anything with Cho the year before, but entirely worth it when Neville would pull him into a dark alcove and snog him senseless. 

Secrecy it was, then. That was all right; Harry was used to keeping secrets. It felt strange to have something so big (and not horrible) he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione, but they were so busy with each other, Harry doubted they'd notice if he ripped Neville's robes off and sucked his cock right in the middle of dinner.

Well... they wouldn't notice right _away_ , at least.

It was difficult in Potions, as their worktables were right next to each other. Harry forced himself not to look at Neville. He worried Snape could tell. Neville didn't know anything about Occlumency or Legilimency. He didn't know that Snape really could read minds if he wanted. Even his charm would be hard-pressed if Neville knew everything Snape was capable of.

If Snape knew, he'd never let up. He'd make snide remarks ever chance he got, and he'd--oh, God--he'd tell Malfoy.

So Harry kept his eyes down and his mouth shut in Potions.

Neville stopped wearing the bracelet charm, except in Potions. He was never as aggressive as he'd been at the start, but Harry didn't mind. 

*

It was a Hogsmeade weekend that started Harry thinking about Neville's fears. Hermione and Ron argued about whether to go to the bookshop or Honeydukes, and Neville said he wanted to go to the flower shop. No one said anything about Madam Puddifoot's.

In the flower shop, Neville looked at each potted flower (skipping over the cut flowers entirely, Harry noted happily). "They use Greengrass's Grow-Up," he sniffed. "Professor Sprout says it gives nice results in the short term, but it makes the plant more susceptible to disease in the long run. Makes for weaker potions ingredients, too. Oh, look! A Scopplethwaite's Surprise!" Neville ran over to a pot in the corner. 

Inside, there was what looked like a small gray stone. "Watch," Neville said. He conjured a long feather and stepped back. He stretched so the tip of the feather brushed the stone, which pulsed threateningly. Harry, remembering the _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ , shrank away. Suddenly, a burst of color and light flew up from the pot. A three-foot tall plant, covered in sweet-smelling blooms, now grew out of the tiny stone.

"Wow," Harry said. Neville's round face glowed with happiness. He looked like a Seeker who'd just caught the Snitch. Harry wanted to kiss him.

Then Neville's expression dropped, just like that. The happy glow went out. He looked at something behind Harry.

A tall man dressed in black robes was purchasing a bouquet of flowers. "Neville, what's wrong?" Harry said. Neville shook, and looked at the floor.

"N- nothing," Neville said. "I just thought it was Snape, for a minute." Harry looked again. Aside from the black robes, there was nothing Snape-like about the man. For one thing, his face was full and kind. His white hair was pulled back into a long tail. And, to top it off, he wore a high--and bright yellow--wizard's hat. 

"It's not," Harry said, but Neville was still shaking. "It's not."

*

Neville's body was endlessly fascinating. Harry liked to touch the small bump on his nose, from when it broke. He liked the softness of Neville's stomach, and he rested his head on it like a pillow. He liked Neville's cock, the rich scent and bitter-salt taste of it. He liked the three moles, one on each of Neville's hips, one just above his navel, and he traced a lazy triangular path between them with his tongue. He liked Neville's arse, and the noises Neville made when Harry touched him there. 

"Do you want to--" Harry said, slipping the tip of his finger in.

"Yes," Neville said. "Not here, though."

"Thank you!" Seamus yelled from his bed. Padma had broken off with him, and he'd been staying in the dormitory more often. He was the only one who knew, though it wasn't a 'congrats, mate,' kind of knowing. More like a 'spare me the details' kind of knowing.

Twenty minutes later, they were huddled under Harry's cloak, in front of the Room of Requirement. "I wonder how many times the room's been used for this," Harry whispered. 

Neville laughed. "I wonder what it's going to give us."

A bed was the answer. A large bed, but just a bed nonetheless, and a small box filled with different vials, and a bookcase off in the corner.

"What are those for?" Harry said, opening one of the vials. "Oh. Aren't there spells for that?" He hadn't even thought of bringing something. Having to buy or make a bottle of... stuff made it all seem more real.

"Sure, but I wouldn't want to use one," Neville said. "What if you make a mistake?" His face paled. "What if you said a banishment charm on accident?"

Harry shivered. "Right. No spells."

Neville sat on the bed. "Do you want, er, or should I?"

"Can I?" Harry said, his face flushing deep red. Neville nodded. "How should we..." Harry sat next to Neville. "Lets just do some things we already know, to start." He unbuttoned his pajamas and took them off, and Neville did the same.

They settled down facing each other on the bed and kissed and touched for a long time. 

Harry's fingers crept from Neville's balls to his arse. Neville's hand dug into Harry's shoulders. "Harry, you can use the stuff," he said.

Now Harry faced another predicament. "How should I, um...." Maybe he could lift Neville's legs up high enough, but that couldn't be all that comfortable. 

"Like this?" Neville said, turning over and tucking his knees under. 

"God, Neville," Harry said roughly. "You look--" Fantastic. Brilliant. Terrific. Incredible. So hot, just waiting for Harry to-- "--really good."

Neville chuckled. "Go on," he said, but Harry saw a blush spread all the way down his back. 

Harry opened one of the vials and poured out some of the slippery contents. Neville hissed when Harry touched his arse. Harry froze.

"Just cold," Neville mumbled. "Don't stop."

The slick substance made it easy for Harry to slide his index finger in, past the tight muscle, into the warmth. Inside Neville. His cock swelled at the thought. He moved his finger around, exploring.

"Mm, there," Neville said, his voice thick. "S'nice." 

"What does it feel like?" Harry whispered, though there was no need for silence.

"Like every one of my muscles has melted," Neville said.

Harry bent closer and tried adding a second finger. Neville squirmed contentedly.

On impulse, Harry leaned in and licked the wrinkled skin where his fingers entered Neville. The organic scent of the lubricant and the bitter underlying flavor weren't very nice, but Neville moaned loudly.

"Harry, was that your tongue?"

"Yes. Was it all right?"

"God, yes."

So Harry did it again. He didn't mind the flavor if it made Neville whimper like that, every sound going directly to Harry's prick.

"Neville, I'm going to." Harry plunged his fingers in once more, and shifted into position.

"Yes, now."

Harry paused. He'd have to go it slow, to avoid hurting Neville. He pushed in a little.

"Oh, wait, stop," Neville said, tensing up. "Slower. Um, let me breathe for a minute."

"We don't have to," Harry said, panting from the effort of holding still. 

"I want to," Neville said. "I think... maybe if I push out when you push in." He demonstrated, and Harry slipped in a bit further. "Mm, that's better."

"All right?" Harry said. He wanted to dig his hands into Neville's hips and thrust.

"Yeah. Try it again."

One more push, and Harry was in. All the way in, where it was tight and hot and he was surrounded by Neville. He pulled out a bit and thrust in, trying to find the angle Neville had liked when he'd explored with his fingers. He wasn't going to last long.

"Let go, Harry," Neville said. "Just go hard, I want you to."

Harry groaned and gave in. Four more hard thrusts, and he came, pulsing hot.

"Neville, Neville," he said, slipping out and turning Neville over to swallow his cock. He wanted to surround Neville and suck him in as deeply as he'd just felt. 

Neville hissed and came, bitter fluid that tasted better than the best sweets to Harry, because it meant he had made Neville feel good.

* 

"D'you think the Room would let us stay here forever? We could have Dobby bring us food," Harry said, fingering Neville's sweaty hair.

"What if someone else needs it?"

"They can get their own room," Harry said yawning. "Look, there's a window."

There was, indeed. It showed an eastern view, with the gray-yellow light of dawn just starting to show.

A pair of crows flew past the window and circled back, flapping and landing on the sill in a flurry of caws and feathers. Neville stiffened beside Harry. "It's only crows," Harry said.

"I know. I just don't like them," Neville said. A surge of protectiveness ran through Harry.

"I'll get rid of them," he said. He got up and walked naked over to the window. "Go away!" he said, waving his hands at the crows. He hit the small bookcase and knocked off several books. The crows cawed and flew away.

"Thanks. I know it's silly, but I can't help it," Neville said. Harry stared at the jumble of books on the floor. "What is it?"

"I think the Room thinks we have something to talk about," Harry said, gathering up the books and dumping them on the bed.

 _Blame it on the Parents? A New Study_ by Prunella Sprigg.

 _Dead or Just Gone: Coping With Absent Parent Syndrome_ by Angela Horowitz.

 _Modern Orphans_ by Muriel Spun.

There were at least a dozen more.

"What are these?" Neville asked.

"Muggle books," Harry said. "My aunt has a lot of them, only they're more about how to raise your child to be a genius. Fat lot that did for Dudley."

"This one's not Muggle," Neville said, pulling out a thin pamphlet. _Eaten By Death: The Children of The Dark Lord's Victims (with a special section on helpful cheering charms!)_ by Artemisia Handle. 

"What are we supposed to do?" Harry said, annoyed. "It's nothing we don't know already. My parents were k- killed, and yours were, um, almost killed..." he trailed off.

"They should have died. They'd be better off," Neville said. He looked horrified at his own words. 

"Neville. Don't say that. I'd rather-- I'd rather have gum wrappers than nothing at all." Harry touched Neville's knee tentatively. This was new territory, and he felt unsure. 

"You don't know," Neville said, brushing his hand away. "You don't know what it's like, so how can you say what you'd want?"

"Right," Harry said. He frowned. Maybe he should just go. 

"I remember my parents dying," he said instead. "I didn't, for a long time, but then those Dementors... they made me remember it."

Neville looked at him through guarded eyes. "I don't remember anything," he said quickly.

"You don't?"

"No. No." Neville said, his eyes screwed shut. "No- not really." His shoulder muscles twitched. "Just... blackness. And flashes of light. But mostly black things. Blackness, I mean."

Harry felt ill. Had Neville-- "Were you there, when it happened?" --been there, when his parents were tortured into insanity?

"No!" Neville's body slumped, and he said in an empty tone, "I don't know."

Harry crawled under the covers and rested his head against Neville, just listening to him breathe for a long while.

"Blackness like... black robes and birds and things?" he said. Neville's breathing jumped.

"I-- I don't know..." Neville said, but this time he sounded curious, and a little bit hopeful.

*

The end of term came, and both Neville and Harry actually completed their potions in a 'serviceable' manner. Neville's Gran was allowing him to stay at Hogwarts for most of the Christmas holiday.

"Look, I didn't slip it on once," Neville said, holding up his bare wrist. He'd been trying to slowly wean himself off the fear-blocking charm, but he hadn't been able to make it though an entire class without it before. 

"Brilliant," Harry said.

"I wouldn't ditch something like that," Ron said, pulling a clip out of Hermione's hair. "Be handy for, you know, fighting evil doers."

"I can be brave, when I have to. When it's dangerous not to," Neville said. "I need to try it for everyday things." He laughed. "I mean, it's not as big as the whole savior of the Wizarding World thing and whatnot," he said, shoving Harry shoulder playfully.

"Right," Harry said, shoving back. "Listen, about all that...."


End file.
